Way Home
by bikelock28
Summary: "And then Kevin appears behind her. Kevin's here. Why is Kevin here? Why is she here with Kevin? Barney's heart stopped when she walked in, and now his breath has gone too. What the…. Barney feels his smile is melting; his face is telling him what his brain hasn't registered- can't register, won't register. He's standing on a precipice. Hanging. Falling," Barney; Tick, Tick Tick.


_I've never heard silence quite this loud- _Taylor Swift

**This is a very long one-shot of Barney during his anagnorisis in 7.10 ****_Tick Tick Tick. _****This is a fantastic episode for many reasons, one of them being that it turns the character who we have loved for being the crazy cartoonish sidekick idiot into the tragic hero. Gosh, the way his face drops them she walks into the bar… I hope I've done it justice here (this was also an interesting exercise in other ways to say "heartbreak" without using that phrase).**

**T for language and angst. I don't own HIMYM. Please enjoy (well, enjoy as much as you can considering what a sad episode this is).**

_Last night I dreamt that somebody loved me_

-The Smiths

Way Home

Quarter past eleven. Barney runs up to Robin's apartment carrying the box. He sets it down on the floor and unpacks it, takes out the candles and the packets of rose petals. His fingers are agitated. Breaking up with Nora hurt- a lot- but he'll be okay because he's going to be back with Robin, and that's all that matters. Barney's quaking fingers finally manage to open the packet and he takes out a handful of petals, strews them across the room. No, no, that looks wrong. That looks like they were blown in by the wind. Barney gathers them up again, and drops then strategically over the floor and the bed, taking more handfuls until the bag's empty and Robin's room is covered with rose petals. He checks his watch- half eleven; half an hour to go. Barney sets to work on the candles, placing them onto Robin's bedside table, her dresser, a couple on the floor. He didn't think he'd ever need Romeo, his Romance Guy- or at least only for a play. But right now Barney's grateful that he has a guy who could get him roses and candles at such short notice. He takes his cigarette lighter for his pocket, kneels down and lights the candles, one by one.

Twenty to midnight. He should leave. He wants to be in MacLaren's early. He should be the first one there. Barney does a quick once-over of the room, checking that everything is perfect, because it has to be. Next time he's in this room, Robin will be in his arms and they'll be kissing and he'll be making love to her and it will be sweet and beautiful and perfect. Seventeen minutes to midnight. Barney smiles to himself, turns off the light, and quietly closes the door to Robin's room.

* * *

He glances at the clock. Two minutes to go. His heart's battering his ribcage, and he wonders what in the name of God has happened to the Barney Stinson who is cool and suave and unflappable. But it doesn't matter, because the Barney Stinson who gets to be with Robin is going to be better than any other versions there will ever be. His stomach's in knots; spasming and clenching. He takes a breath. Another breath. _Yes, good. Keep breathing, Barney, keep breathing_.

He fiddles with his cufflink. It's a relatively knew one; silver, square- plain and not too fancy_. Breath. Breath._ He rubs his fingers against his tie, and thanks God that he settled for another three slaps instead of having to wear that ridiculous Ducky Tie any longer. Barney laughs nervously at the thought_. Breath. Breath. This is going to be okay. _He thinks about the taste of her kisses and his chest tightens further. One minute to go. Not long now until he's with her, until he belongs to her, until they're _them _again.

The door swings and his head jerks round- but it's not Robin. Its Ted and Marshall and Lily.

"Hey, how's it going?" enquires Ted.

"Oh-ah," says Barney awkwardly, "Not great," He can hardly be evasive, so he comes out with it-"Nora and I broke up,"

His friends coo in surprise and sympathy. Marshall looks very sorry, and Lily asks "Oh my God, what happened?" in a shocked, high voice. He doesn't want to explain it to them now, not when there's something so much more important about to happen.

"Ah, I don't really feel like getting into it,"- but then that sounds like he's keeping massive secret from them- and he _does _appreciate their concern, so Barney throws in the gentle half-smile which works so well with women.

"But, I think the worst part is over," he adds. _Because you were brave- you could've chickened out when her parents showed up, but you didn't and now Robin's going to be here and…_

He swallows. Thinking of Nora's parents has reminded Barney of what her dad said earlier- Yo_u can't stop thinking about them. _Exactly. Exactly. Hadn't he said almost the same words to Robin earlier?- _I haven't stopped thinking about you. _Perhaps that's not entirely true; there've been times when he's thought-known- that _they_ were in the past. But he's never not wanted her back. _They're you best friend- e_ven years ago when they first met, they had fun together. She would tease him for being superficial and obsessive; he would tease her for being Canadian and a girl, and for having feelings for Ted. That first Laser Tag game they played together had got to be one of his best ever. Together they completed the Murtagh list, and together they ran riot in the Natural History Museum, and together they taunted Marshall and Lily about their baby's gender. He always has so much fun with her. _And your soul mate. You can't wait to spend the rest of your life with them…._well, maybe that's going a bit far. He will never believe in soul mates, and he doesn't plan out The Rest Of His Life_._ But Barney knows that when he lets a day go by without talking to her, that day's just no good- so whatever happens in this Rest Of His Life, he wants Robin in it. Maybe- and this is a frightening though- he _needs_ her in it.

It's not as if Barney's bored of one-night-stands and womanising- he still gets a kick out of plays and cons, and obviously the sex is awesome. It's not as if he's had some Teddish epiphany about wanting to settle down- how lame would that be? Barney doesn't know much about what he wants- but he does want Robin. He's willing to work harder, to try and be better for her- to make them better this time than they were before. Yes, he had loved Nora. He had, and he tried to prove to her that he could be for real, and he could be a proper boyfriend. But then last night had happened, and when those jarring, abstract concepts- soul mates and forever and the intangible- come up, it's always going to be Robin who he sees. He knows that now. She's it for him. It's always going to be her.

The door squeaks again, and this time it _is _Robin walking in. _She's here._ Barney's heart stops. She's here. She came. _It's okay, it's okay. _He can feel the smile stretching his face; she's here for him and they're going to….well, he knows he said that they would _talk about us_, but right now all Barney wants to do is hold her in his arms and press soft kisses to her lips. And he can, _he can_, because she's here and she's his. That's all he can think; that Robin is here and how everything is bright and buzzing and happy. She's coming over to him and he's smiling in satisfaction, anticipation, delight. The waiting and the hoping was worth it.

And then Kevin appears behind her.

Woah. _Woah._ What the…? Kevin's here. Why is Kevin here? What's going on? Why is she here with Kevin? Barney's heart stopped when she walked in, and now his breath has gone too. What the…. Barney feels his smile is melting; his face is telling him what his brain hasn't registered- can't register, won't register. He's standing on a precipice. Hanging. Falling.

Then it hits him; she chose Kevin. She chose Kevin. She didn't choose him.

Barney feels as if his head's been shoved underwater. He's glancing between her and Kevin as if to be sure- but he already knows. Kevin. Not him.

Robin and the others have moved over to the booth now, and she turns and looks him in the eye. He jerks his head at her a little- not quite hopefully, but perhaps with the ghost of hope. She shakes her head gently at him in reply- _It's over._ She didn't choose him. Everything he thought he could have is over and impossible. Barney feels surrounded by silence, but at the same time there's a deafening ring cloying him. His body twitches, half-turning towards the bar and half wondering if this moment will ever end. She looks at him sadly and painfully and it's like someone kicking him; kicking him hard in the head and in the chest, and he's doubled up on the floor being kicked and kicked in the stomach. Barney doesn't notice what's going on around him, it doesn't matter; all that matters is that she chose Kevin. _She chose Kevin and she didn't choose him_. Things have stopped moving around him because he isn't falling anymore- he's hit the ground. Hard.

He's aware of the glass in his hand, and automatically takes a drink. Maybe if Ted was narrating he'd say that the scotch tastes bitter and fiery and burns his throat, but the truth is that to Barney it doesn't taste of anything. He stumbles against the bar like he's been shot, and pinches a hand to the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes because he can't bear to look at her any more. Barney desperately wants to cry. He wants to slump over the bar and feel the sobs choke out of him; curl up and let himself cry and cry and cry, because everything hurts so much. Then, he wants to feel anger. He wants to hate Robin; to feel burning hot fury course through his blood. He wants to feel like injuring someone or breaking something because this _isn't fair_. But he feels neither of these things, and perhaps that's the worst of all. He doesn't feel hurt or unfair. Barney just feels numb. So numb.

The world's just about moving again, and he's vaguely aware of crossing over to their booth. That booth, where so many things happened. Where he said that he wasn't sure he liked her. Where she asked him to come home with her, which led to their first kiss, their first time together. Where Ted nodded at him to tell him that it was okay for Barney to pursue her. Where they held hands and stroked each other's' legs under the table that Summer. Where they denied again and again that they were couple. Where he told her she looked "super hot," and he meant it and she smiled. Where he kvetched about the Ducky Tie last night, and later they shared a cab home together- and then they were kissing and _kissing_ and of course it meant something to him.

And where she is now, sitting down beside Kevin, because _she chose Kevin_. She belongs to Kevin and not to Barney. Last night meant nothing to her. Maybe everything had happened at that booth, everything that had happened between them, meant nothing to her. Everything he thought he meant to her- everything she meant to him- is worthless- because he's worthless to her. He means nothing to her.

If Barney believed in heartbreak, he reckons that this is what it would feel like. But as it is, Barney doesn't believe in anything- especially not now the one person who made him think he could believe has abandoned him. He wishes he could hate her. Knows he never will. He just has to leave before anything happens, before he goes mad. Everything is stony and tight and he needs to _get out. _

He mumbles something about needing to go.

"I'm so sorry," she says. Her voice is hard and level, like the top of a tower block.

"Don't be," he says, twitching a little. A small part of him wants to throw himself at her feet and beg her to change her mind- but the most of him just wants to leave, "It's nothing," Barney barely notices what he's saying. He only needs to get out of here as fast as he can. Robin looks down - see how she's embarrassed by him, by his pathetic hopes and proclamations about what they both wanted. Barney turns away, head twitching a little. Thank God their booth's near the door because it's only a few more steps and then he won't have to be in this Goddamn bar any longer. Barney shoves the door open with his shoulder, and then he's out in the night air; outside and alone. He leans against the wall and tips his head back so it's resting against the brickwork. He breathes out a slow, steady sigh. Looking up into the sky, he sees that it's very dark. And cold- Barney's abruptly aware of just how freezing it is on this November night. The bricks are cold and hard and sharp against the back of his head, and the wind is relentless on his face.

Barney bites his lip. He doesn't want to go home. What would he do? But he doesn't want to go anywhere else either. Oh God, he doesn't know- this isn't his thing. This is what happens to Ted, not to him. Ted would know what to do, but Barney can hardly go back into the bar and ask. He wonders if perhaps it might be better to stay all night in the MacLaren's doorway- but then he remembers Robin's room upstairs. _Oh God, the room._ Rose petals and candles for their first night back together. Something inside Barney wrenches- the numbness is fading, making way for fear. _Fucking hell, the room_. He has to go back there. He has to get rid of any trace that he was there, any trace of hope, because she can't ever know. Robin can never, ever know how much he wanted- _wants- _to be with her, how sure he was that tonight she'd choose him.

He takes the key from his pocket and climbs the steps up from MacLaren's and then up to the apartment, and up to the third floor. He moves quickly- not hurrying, but hastily, ignoring everything around him. He's going to get this done, and then _go_.

When Barney walks into the apartment, however, it _smells_ of her and her stuff's everywhere- her coat and her shoes and her gun magazines which Ted hates- and it's impossible to ignore. He tries to hurry past, but it's like a car crash- you don't want to look but you just have to. Every possession of hers is like another kick in the face, in the stomach, in the heart. And he hasn't even made it to her room.

When Barney does approach the plain wooden door, he hesitates. _Just get it done quickly, and leave. Get it over with. _That's the best he can offer himself. The doorknob feels horribly large and angular in his hand. Gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, Barney twists it, opens the door and slips inside. Eyes down, Barney crouches onto the floor and reaches for a petal. He tries to ignore its soft delicacy as he shuffles a couple of steps forward, collecting more petals. He manages one, two, three of them- and then he's overwhelmed by…her. Her possessions scattered around, stirring up thoughts of her, of _them_. Of sex after their kiss in the hospital room two and a half years ago, and how he had thought then- for the first time- that perhaps there _was _a reason why people called it making love. Of her fingering the lapels of his jacket and calling him her boyfriend, and it not sounding as dreadful as he feared it would. Of scattering rose petals and arranging candles in here a lifetime ago. He had been so excited about how the evening would pan out. He had been so confident that it _would_ be the story of how they got back together.

Barney can't believe he was so stupid, so presumptive. Had he really thought that, like other girls, she'd take anything he said to her as long as he smiled nicely? How could he be so naive? She's never been like other girls; she's the exception to every rule he has. He should have realised that earlier_. "Why do you even like me?" _He should have told her how she's broken every single one of his rules but he doesn't care. He should have told her how she means the world to him and how much of a laugh he has with her. He should have told her how alike they are and how she understands him like no one else. He should have told her how much he loves to bicker and tease and scheme with her. He should have told her how she's beautiful and clever and she doesn't need anyone. He should have told her that he doesn't care how dysfunctional their relationship was- even when they were fighting he was truly never happier.

He should have told her that he loves her.

But he didn't. He wimped out like the chickenshit he is_. _All those words were on the tip of his tongue- although maybe he hadn't realised because he was a coward and gave her the entirely wrong answer. "_You're almost as messed up as I am," _He'd been wrong about that too, obviously. Robin's nowhere near perfect- but he's far more messed up than she is; far more messed up than anyone. He's in bits- not just now because of Robin; he's always been in bits. He's a broken man who can't be fixed, a mess who won't be cleared up. Their attempt at a relationship was a train wreck from beginning to end, so why would she want that again? Why would she have chosen him? This, he realises is why he can't hate her; because Robin made the right choice. Because Kevin is kind and caring (he never was) and will give her everything she deserves, and tell her everything she deserves to hear (he never did). Because Kevin will make a great boyfriend (he had no clue, he was distant and useless), and if they break up he'll be an understanding ex (he paraded bimbos in front of her and rubbed it in her face that he was free from her). Because why the hell would she want some scared, selfish idiot who's too much of a proud and self-absorbed to tell her to her face how wonderful she is? Why would she want someone who blames her and admits to her that she's a mess? Why would she want anything to do with a fucked up guy who lives his life with-at best- some deformed vestige of a soul clawing aimlessly about in his ribcage?

God, he just wants to stop and curl up on the floor forever, until he disappears.

But he can't. He can't stay here, because the pain of her coming in and finding him- of seeing for herself what an idiot he's been, what an embarrassment to her he is- would just be too much to bear. So Barney slowly forces his limbs to move again, and works on through the room. Perhaps Ted would say that picking up the rose petals was like picking up pieces of his heart, or that blowing out the candles is like trying to blow out his irrevocable love for her_. _Perhaps Ted would say that it would be better if he felt it burn him inside- but to be honest Barney fees like he's got nothing inside left to burn.

Once all the petals and candles are gone, Barney checks the room. Double checks. Triple checks. Checks again. He's meticulous; looking under her pillows and down the sides of the bed. There can be no trace left; she can't ever find out. But in checking, he has to crawl around and across her bed- the bed where he imagined that right now he'd be kissing her and stroking her skin, and she'd be running her hands through his hair and murmuring his name. And it makes him feel sick that that was the dream, but in reality he's here alone removing himself from her.

Barney's caught in a tortuous catch-22, because he knows he _needs_ to stay and keep checking, but he _wants_ to get out of here. And the more he checks the more paranoid he becomes that he's left something, and then he has to check again and that takes more time; he desperately wants out, but he knows that the humiliation of her finding any trace of him would far worse than having to trawl repeatedly through her room.

When he's _finally_ sure that there's nothing left, Barney carries the bag and the box of candles out of the room, through the apartment, down the stairs and out into the night. He walks quickly down the street, the box held under his left arm and the bag clutched in his right hand. He has to get off this street and make sure that he's out of the way so that none of them see him. _This is the last bit_, he tells himself in the vague hope that it's comforting, _the last hurdle before you can go nuts._ He really, really hopes that he can go nuts. Because otherwise he doesn't know _what_ he'll do.

Thank God Barney's walked this way so many times before, because it means his feet can take him home automatically, leaving his brain to wrap itself around what's happened and what it means. He thought Robin agreed with him about _I haven't stopped thinking about you and you haven't stopped thinking about me. _He thought she was prepared to give them another go.

He thought she loved him more than she loved Kevin. The humiliation of this lodges in Barney's throat. The shame of it- the preposterousness that he had genuinely believed that…and this brings him back round to thinking he's an idiot, he's messed up, he's not good enough for anybody.

These thoughts stalk behind him all the way home like black cats- and all the time he can't stop thinking about her face. The pity in her eyes. The slight shake of her head- _no_. How beautiful she looked, even then.

Barney makes it back to his apartment block and pushes open the front door, presses the button for the elevator. Nobody's around at this time of night. He can't face anyone. Barney steps into the elevator, and the little box is cramped and claustrophobic, shutting him in- but at the same time it's huge and empty; a massive deserted space of nothingness. It takes forever to get to his floor, but when the doors finally do open he hurries over to his apartment door. Often, he misses the lock with his key because he's been drinking, but tonight the key's in the lock with one swift movement, and then the door's open and he's inside. Barney pockets his key and silently closes the door behind him. He crosses straight to the kitchen to grab a bottle. It's probably whisky or scotch but he doesn't care- he just wants to drink. He hopes to God that he'll pass out, or drink and drink and drink and forget everything. However, something tells him that neither of those are going to happen.

Barney pours the glass slowly; he wants to cling as long as possible to the hope that the alcohol will make him better. He fills the tumbler right to the top so that liquid spills over the edge, and he downs the shot. Whisky, he can't help but register. It tastes of nothing, like his scotch at the bar. Barney's not surprised by this, but anticipating the tastelessness doesn't make the reality of it any better. He puts the tumbler down. Glass scrapes on granite. The sound is jarring but Barney doesn't bother to wince. Carefully, he removes his jacket as if preparing for his execution. He folds it neatly and leaves it on a chair. Then, Barney leans his elbows on the counter, knotting his fingers through his hair. It hurts a bit but nowhere near enough. He squeezes his eyes shut because pretending to cry might do him some good. It's another false hope, but he has to try- anything to stop himself feeling so emptyand contemptible. Why can't he be sobbing? Why can't he be angry? Why can't he be heartbroken (if, of course, he had a heart to break)?

Barney bites his lip hard- and then relaxes abruptly, opening his eyes and letting go of his hair and releasing his lower lip from his teeth. His upper body flops onto the counter, cheek pressing against the cold hard granite. He breathes in and out rapidly a few times- maybe it'll be some sort of release. After a while- he's no idea how long- of watching the fridge and listening to his own breath, Barney pushes his torso up off the counter and meanders over to the couch. He sits down and looks at the ceiling. Barney's always prided himself on being cold and detached, and that made him strong. Recently he's begun to doubt if there is another way of living- not a personality transplant or an abandonment of his womanising ways- but he could try to soften himself, to be more accommodating to the idea of a relationship. Working on his friendship with Jerry had made Barney value relationships more, given him a new perspective on these things. With Nora he tried to let down his defences a little and he allowed himself some more vulnerability. He'd worked hard to prove that he could do it and that him and Nora would work. What Barney had overlooked was the fact that Robin had snuck through those defences years before. He hadn't wanted her to but it had happened anyway, and since then he's been weakened. And when you're weak you're vulnerable, and when you're vulnerable you get hurt. Barney wishes he'd remembered that before. Before last night, before tonight. Before he'd laid all his hopes on the line only to have them crushed. Before he let himself believe that he was worth enough to deserve anybody's love.

Later, Barney will never know how he makes it through the night. He doesn't sleep, that's for sure. He doesn't cry, or rage, or drink. He just _is._ Sometimes he sits or lies on his couch, knees curled up to his chest and neck contorted, sometimes he wanders round the kitchen. Sometimes he stands in the middle of the floor and stares into space. The same thoughts loll around his head like waves in a storm. Barney drifts around his apartment for hours, but can't go into his room, because the last time- because…but he might be sick if he thinks about that too much.

In the morning, he puts on a fresh suit and doesn't eat anything, before leaving early for work. Barney goes straight into his office and hangs a _Do Not Disturb _sign on the door. He can't talk to anyone. He wants to be alone.

He's just had a break up, after all.

* * *

**Thanks a lot for reading, I really hope you liked it. If you did- or if you didn't, or whatever you thought- please let me know a review, that'd be really helpful and would make me very happy. Thanks again.**


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